


The Strange Occurrence of Bucky in the Bedroom

by Airafleeza



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Fluff, Hate Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, bucky barnes is an ass man pass it on, just covering my bases because i guess it might hint at dubcon on steve's part, mentions of bondage, super soldier tickling, watchmen references because i'm trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3068387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airafleeza/pseuds/Airafleeza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a little more teeth-clashing than Steve thinks is normal, but it’s okay. First times are usually rough, he figures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strange Occurrence of Bucky in the Bedroom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pounsygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pounsygirl/gifts).



> Formally known as "Love; when you can".
> 
> This is such a dumb thing that was based off of a silly misunderstanding with [Zoe](http://winterzchild.tumblr.com). I was telling them about a fic I had read where Bucky was programmed to "hate" sex, to which Zoe thought I meant "hate sex", and that was that. This was supposed to be cracky, but now it's... not???
> 
> I wrote this months ago, and figured I should just post it and get it over with, but before I do, I want to thank everyone who has read it ([Ari](http://winterthirst.tumblr.com) and [Steebie](http://christstan.tumblr.com)), beta-d it (cough [Becka](http://captsrgnt.tumblr.com) cough), and helped me laugh through it by giving me some very.... inspirational and floral title ideas for this fic (not saying it was [Jannet](http://jannet-bird.tumblr.com) but it might have been).
> 
> Uhhh, that being said, try to enjoy? I'm still new and tender when it comes to posting fics.

Steve lays on his stomach, trying to analyze the situation with what little oxygen his brain is getting.

He knows this: part him is touching the floor (his fingers absentmindedly pet the coarse carpet), while the rest of him is half undressed, tangled in bed sheets and most likely on the mattress (most likely, because he isn't 100% confident he is still attached to the lower half of his body).

His chest is pounding, out of breath. It's the first time in an age that he's reminded what it means to have asthma.

All the places Bucky’s calloused hands had grabbed tingle, and Steve could replay the order of contact from first to last. _Shoulders, arms, the right side of his ribs, butt, hips, his--_

And Bucky is still here, he realizes, and god, Steve never wants to forget this. Wants to capture this with charcoal and paper forever as Bucky’s smile comes into his view. It’s a sleepy smile etched on a pleasantly-pleased face, obscured only by his extreme bedhead. Time passes, and Steve can feel the several points of contact between their two bodies, and a warm, content feeling flushes over him. Bucky is laying perpendicular to him, his torso across the back of his legs, and Steve has to wonder what the hell happened where they ended up like this, because despite his inexperience, he's pretty sure this isn’t a normal post-sex position.

 _(That was sex, right?_ Steve wonders dumbly, mind slowly coming back online. It hadn’t felt bad-- on the contrary, he may or may not have completely zoned out and saw a galaxy or two of stars before his vision whited out…

But it felt rushed and frenzied, like he couldn’t get a grip on Bucky or himself.)

Bucky’s eyes are soft when he pulls Steve completely back on the bed, dragging himself up to Steve’s face. His fingertips drag from where they’ve gripped Steve’s bicep, opting to curl around Steve’s jaw instead, holding him there as Bucky just… gazes at him with these big dopey eyes that Steve wants to chase for the rest of his life. Bucky lowers his head with leisure, resting it on Steve's shoulder for a moment before propping himself up, and _there it is_ \-- he’s looking at Steve with so much affection and something akin to _awe_ that Steve feels his breath catch again because to be looked like that-- if ever he felt like he wasn’t worth something to someone, this convinces him the opposite.

The weight of this realization drives Steve to act, straining his neck to raise his head (god, when did his shoulders get so tense?) and press his forehead to Bucky’s. Their sweat-covered skin connected, Steve waits for Bucky to make the next move and suddenly-- yes, Bucky chastely kisses him, and Steve wants to hum with how perfect it is until Bucky nips at his lips, holding on longer than what’s probably necessary and Steve worries stupidly for a second that he is never going to get his bottom lip back when Bucky lets him go, only to bring their mouths together again.

There’s a little more teeth-clashing than Steve thinks is normal, but it’s okay. First times are usually rough, he figures.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until a month or so passes that Bucky finally mentions their sex life.

The conversation is brought up after movie night in Avengers tower, and Clint happens to pick _Watchmen_ , forgetting about the sex scene in Archie. It had become an unspoken agreement that content of that nature was to be avoided at all costs (unless it was in horror movie), because some people (Tony) couldn’t handle sex scenes like adult.

Clint mumbles something along the lines of “totally forgot about this, sorry guys,” and Tony has already started to make obscene comments, Steve getting uncomfortable and looking over to Bucky. Bucky stares at the screen, his eyes fixed on the scene, like he's memorizing and calculating the movements of two bodies.

Steve doesn't watch the movie, distracted by Bucky’s intense concentration. But he manages to catch bits and pieces of what’s happening. He sees how they worship each other’s physiques, and yeah, maybe something about having sex in an owl-shaped ship isn’t quite orthodox, but it was closer to what Steve has always imagined, rather than this constant fight for dominance-- something almost like violence-- that occurs with Bucky in the bedroom. But that was fine. He knows everyone moves at their own pace, that each couple is supposed to be different. Hell, things were _definitely_ supposed to be different when a brainwashed ex-assassin and his super-soldier boyfriend are involved.

It isn’t until what feels like _hours_ later when the movie finishes (everyone had become solemn and quiet afterwards, none of the witty and light-hearted banter able to survive after the film’s finale), and Steve and Bucky are walking back to their apartment in the pleasantly chilly air that Bucky speaks up.

Steve had been anxious, worrying over him and disagreeing with how Bucky lowered his head and slumped his shoulders like he was ashamed. He couldn’t think of why Bucky should be bothered-- hell, he figures Bucky probably is-- he doesn’t know what to call it, mapping? Planning?-- the different moves for when they got back home to try out.

“Steve.”

He stops, moving in front of Bucky, hand ghosting over his friend’s left arm for a moment before quietly answering with a, “Yeah?”

“Steve,” he repeats, clearing his throat. “Is that how it’s supposed to be?”

For a second, Steve is struck speechless. Bucky sounds so helpless, like every time he’d ever had to admit to not remembering something. That same guilt is present in his tone, too.

“Tell me,” Bucky’s voice darkens, and he looks at Steve with piercing and determined eyes. He grips Steve’s right arm with his left hand-- Steve feels the strong and unrelenting metal beneath Bucky’s leather glove-- and snaps Steve back to the present. “I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

“Buck, no--” Steve panics, rushing forward, pain twisting through his stomach. “No, not at all. I’m not that breakable. Serum, remember?” He tries to lighten his tone, but his voice is tight with the horror he feels, and part of him knows he’s just making things worse.

“Not what I asked,” Bucky grumbles in response, not letting go.

Steve sighs. “No, no, you haven’t-- I just--”

Bucky stills, like he’s waiting for a punch he deserves, and Steve sees the fear flash in his expression. Bucky looks sick to his stomach. And _shit,_ Steve swears mentally. It’s like he can’t talk fast enough, can’t reassure Bucky in an efficient way, painfully aware of how out of his depth he is.

“You just get…” he tries finding the words. He hears his own voice go up an octave or two, embarrassed about having to talk about this out loud. In public. In New York. Where there’s always someone around at all hours of the night. But Steve shoves that feeling down, though, and the humor of this whole situation hits him, makes him smile a tiny bit. “You get a little… adventurous?”

Bucky pauses, debating the words in his mind. “Adventurous, huh?” There’s almost a trace of Bucky’s infamous cocky grin, like Bucky is having a hard time believing Captain America is having this conversation either.

Bucky has a filthy, vulgar mouth (Steve knows this better than anyone _now_ , especially), so there’s no way this conversation is upsetting his “delicate sensibilities” -- no, he’s taking joy in watching Steve squirm and struggle, and the need for Steve to bat him upside the head and call him a jerk is overwhelming, but Steve can sense the entire atmosphere around them lift a tiny bit.

“Rough, maybe?” Steve offers a better word for it. He sees the question formulating in Bucky’s mind before he can ask Steve again.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind, Buck. You’re not hurting me,” he reassures him for a second time, pouring as much sincerity in his voice as possible, feeling like he’s finally back on his feet again.

But quickly, Bucky drops his gloved hand and makes a motion like he wants to pull away, and Steve chases his fingers and weaves them between his own, urging Bucky to follow him. This is definitely a conversation he would like to have in more private quarters. Preferably in soft pajamas with something warm to drink.

“But I mind, Steve…” Bucky’s voice sounds desperate, scrambling for something. Steve tries to ground him, thumb rubbing circles into Bucky’s hand. “I didn’t even know-- there’s nothin’ else…”

Steve freezes, unsure of how to process what Bucky just admitted to him. “What?”

Bucky looks like he’s the one who’s uncomfortable now. Steve hates it. “I don’t know how to do anything else. I don’t remember.”

“That’s fine.” Steve’s smile relaxes as his face reddens. “You like what you like. There’s no shame in that.”

But Bucky’s face scrunches up stubbornly, frustrated because it seems like Steve’s just not getting it-- isn’t understanding, and Steve wants to understand. Wants to tell Bucky just to come out with it and be frank, but he recognizes the jitteriness in Bucky’s body, knows not to push him anymore. Steve continues to hold Bucky’s cold hand.  

“But I’m not sure if I even like it,” Bucky forces out. There’s more shame, like this is somehow his fault. “Watching... Owl-Man, and whatever Spectre lady-- it’s like, I know I want that. I feel like I’ve had that with other people. Before. All this, I mean.” He swallows. “I don’t-- I want to treat you good, Stevie. I feel like I want to treat you good, and then you’re there in front of me and… and my fucked-up brain tells me that’s treatin’ you right but after seeing that…”

Bucky shakes his head slightly. Steve aches to hold him close.

“Well, next time,” Steve suggests hopefully after several moments pass quietly, because he swears to god, if there isn’t a next time-- no, Steve decides, there definitely _will_ be a next time because he’s already made it his goddamn mission to stop Bucky from punishing himself over this.

Finally, he hears a good-humored huff as Bucky turns his face away. Relief floods into Steve’s body, making his limbs feel loose as he allows himself to sling an arm around Bucky’s neck, lingering to kiss the pink space between his ear and jaw before making their way back home, never completely letting go.

 

* * *

 

After a week of Bucky not initiating any sort of intimate physical contact, and wanting nothing more than to be the little spoon in bed (only the little spoon because Bucky would just lie on his side, as if waiting to see if Steve would even bother), Steve finally has him where he wants.

The amount of effort Bucky takes in being slow and sweet is appreciated, but Steve can see the deep and contemplative lines on Bucky’s face, and there is no way Bucky is enjoying this half as much as Steve wants him to. He’s too guarded, too careful, his muscles shaking as he visibly tries to stay mindful. Shifting over Steve for what Steve swears is the millionth time, Bucky tenses and clenches his jaw, trying to hold himself together.

They have only been kissing lazily in bed for about twenty minutes now, half-naked and hands roaming, and Steve sees the burning in Bucky’s eyes whenever he’s not forcing them shut, and _no no no_ \--

This isn’t how he wants Bucky. He wants Bucky to be pliable and soft like he always is after they’d slept together, and he has a good feeling that isn’t going to happen with the way things are going.

“Buck,” Steve says carefully, trying to ease Bucky out of his own head. Bucky’s eyes widen, seizing for a moment and looking like he’s going to run away. Both of Steve’s hands hold him to his chest instead, letting up just enough in case Bucky really does need the space. When Bucky finally makes eye contact, he’s still a frantic animal, but he stays. Steve pauses before continuing. “You don’t have to try so hard.”

“‘m not.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Put two stubborn punks in a bed, and you’ll always get a whole bunch of stupid. He flips them over, using as much force as possible as he stares down at Bucky, whose breath catches for a second. His face goes blank as he realizes what Steve is trying to tell him.

“This isn’t--” Bucky starts, voice huskier and lower. And if that isn’t enough of a hint, Steve can definitely _feel_ Bucky’s interest perk up a bit.

“Don’t tell me what I want or don’t want,” Steve reminds him, feeling the fight flare up in him. He uses this fire in his belly to grip Bucky’s loose and still too-long hair, tugging it so Bucky is forced to look up at him, angling their mouths perfectly so he could--

Bucky licks his own red and kiss-swollen lips, staring at Steve’s mouth hungrily. And when their dilated eyes meet for a moment while Bucky glances up, as if asking permission one last time, Steve brings their mouths together, a different sort of heat and and understanding and urgency between them now.

God, he had never fathomed how much he could miss  _this_.    

 

* * *

 

“How’s he doing?”

Nick Fury turns to him, Steve vaguely aware as he watches through the one-way mirror while Bucky has his second psyche evaluation. Despite SHIELD being dismantled, Fury still has connections that help with Bucky’s recovery that otherwise Steve would be lost without.

Bucky sits freely on an intimidating chair adorned with black straps, face stoic (Steve reads that as nervousness, of course, a bad habit Bucky’s always had) and almost… small, in nothing but his skinny jeans and bright floral socks.

Which strikes Steve as... odd. He didn’t think anything of it when reception redirected Steve to one of the lower-levels of this new not-really-SHIELD base. A series of questions he immediately wants answers to start emerging, but the most important one was: had something happened?

Instantly, Fury catches the meaning of Steve’s suddenly rigid shoulders.

“Found some other bits of programming that haven’t really come up since his last eval six months ago. Wanted to fix that up.” Fury coughs. His mouth is a firm line, face dead serious as his eyepatch prevents Steve from knowing where his eyes are fixated. “Apparently Zola, or some other Hydra scientist responsible for his programming, thought it would be a good idea to condition him for ‘hate sex’.”

The worst part was knowing, without a doubt, that now Fury is looking at him, cold like it’s nothing more than an inspection but still so wrong-- Steve’s skin covered in goosebumps, hyper-aware of the blood pounding in his temples, nearly missing the quiet, backhand comment--

“Surprised he didn’t do more damage. There was some real nasty shit planted in that noggin of his.”

Everything has stopped. The shock that, first off, the Kind-of-Director-of-SHIELD Nick Fury has just said the words “hate sex” (and Steve _knows_ that Fury has a good idea why this programming has suddenly been triggered and brought to light, and _god if Steve could be anywhere else right now--_ ). Secondly, he doesn’t quite understand why HYDRA thought that should be a thing, that for god knows how long sex had been tainted for Bucky like that, and also because, well, that explains a lot. All the bruises and neck-grabbing in bed sure as hell made a whole lot more sense with this enlightenment.

When Bucky is dismissed, he seems sheepish, walking up to Steve’s side. Steve bumps his shoulders against his, his face conflicted. Maybe he would be smiling at this whole situation in another life, laugh it off, but well, it just goes to show how fucking _manipulative_ HYDRA is (wants to say _was_ ).

“Well, then,” Steve decides to break the silence.

Bucky rubs the back of his own neck, eventually giving an uneasy smile. “Yeah.” He sounds relieved, like that one word contained all his doubts.

“I mean, we knew HYDRA was full of delusional sickos, but even that’s a little…” Steve isn’t sure how to end that sentence. “ _Specific_ , I guess.”

Bucky laughs tiredly, Steve having forgotten how checkups usually exhaust him. Bucky leans a little bit more into his shoulder. “Yeah, it’s certainly something. Might’ve been good for some missions, probably.”

Missions where Bucky would have to seduce his victims into bed. Missions where it would have been easier using sex as a weapon-- to gather intel, to get to his target. Missions where sex would be seen as efficient, and not... Steve grimaces slightly. That wasn’t right.

To him, sex was communication, something to be celebrated and special. Call him a sap, a romantic, but Steve still doesn't dare say any of this outloud.

More often than not, it was hard to gauge how comfortable Bucky is with touch after visiting SHIELD offices, so he waits for Bucky to duck his head under Steve’s right arm, stubbly cheek resting on Steve’s chest and sighing deeply. Other agents walk past them, doing their best to navigate around them in the narrow hallway. In his current state, Steve couldn’t care less about moving.

They stay like that for several moments before Bucky lifts his chin, looking at Steve. “They said… it might take awhile before I get out of the…. habit.” He frowns slightly, like he doesn’t like the taste of the words leaving his mouth. The corner of Steve’s mouth turns up gently, resting the side of his face on the top of Bucky’s head for a moment before starting to make their way to the exit.

“At least now we know why I’m weird in bed,” Bucky mumbles, trying to turn it into a joke that Steve won’t play along with.

“It’s not weird,” Steve reprimands him. “But you know who’s weird? Zola.”

Bucky laughs loudly, grabbing his stomach with his free flesh-and-blood hand. The sound reverberates on the walls. Feeling Bucky’s laughter in the air, feeling it vibrate through his body, Steve decides right then and there that this is the most beautiful part of his day.

“That is a little kinky of him, huh? Poor sonuvabitch. Must have been frustrated or somethin’. Needed an outlet.”

Now Steve can laugh, shaking his head as he agrees. “What a strange little man.”  

 

* * *

 

They start off with small steps, like using lubrication (which Bucky apologizes _profusely_ for not introducing earlier), and more foreplay. Steve pushes nothing, and often Bucky stops himself, needing a breather, because _goddammit_ , he explains to Steve, he wants to be in control but _not_ at the same time.

He always asks Steve what he wants, and usually Steve just replies with a comment about wanting more kissing (Bucky can’t understand Steve’s obsession with his lips, just like Steve doesn’t understand seem to notice how perfect his own ass is. _Oh well._ Two punks in a bed, still).

Steve notices that Bucky is more… he isn’t sure if conscious is a good word for it, but if feels like Steve has more of Bucky’s presence with him everywhere. Even if he’s just fucking his brains out, their eyes will sometimes meet and Steve recognizes Bucky is _here_ with him, _Bucky’s come back_. Despite the comfort that brings him, Steve sometimes misses how blissed out Bucky got, how he just followed his instincts and--

The day came where Bucky suggested Steve take the lead, to set the pace and take charge, and Bucky would do his best to follow.

“I’m curious,” Bucky explains, and Steve is half-convinced Bucky’s going to try to make another bull-shit comment about making sure Steve does what he wants, that Steve is enjoying himself, because Bucky of all people should _know_ that Steve Rogers won’t let himself be bullied into something he doesn’t want, even if it is his best friend asking.

Steve pauses for a moment, straddling Bucky’s abdomen as he thinks. Eventually, he gets up, going to his closet and Bucky sees him pull out an ugly tie Tony got him as a joke for Christmas.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Bondage?”

Steve smiles shyly, tucking the tie close to him. “Why not? And if we break it--” Steve crawls on top of Bucky, settling on his stomach again and hunching down to trail kisses up his broad chest until he’s completely covering Bucky’s body with his own. With Steve hovering above him, Bucky eagerly waits for Steve’s mouth to make way to his (what can he say? Kissing’s starting to grow on him). His lips part in expectation just before Steve pulls back, beaming down at Bucky, and Bucky is aware of the new pressure on his wrists, keeping his arms up and above his head, pinned to the headboard.

He snorts, realizing it was a distraction. “I’m officially the biggest disgrace to assassins everywhere, aren’t I?” Bucky groans, dropping his head to the pillow, muttering something Steve couldn’t quite catch about “being retired”, and making sure “Nat doesn’t find _ever_ find out about this”.

“Honestly, you’re like a bull in a china closet, Stevie, you’re one of the least subtle people I know,” Bucky continues as Steve trails his fingers up and down Bucky’s ribs, getting his attention quietly as Bucky wiggles. It was reassuring for the both of them, Steve is convinced, that that much hadn’t changed since Brooklyn all those years ago. Bucky is still ticklish. Hydra couldn’t take that out of him.

(Well, that, and who _wouldn’t_ want to tickle Bucky?)

“Maybe I’m losing my touch, after all these years,” Bucky adds wistfully, feigning misery that results in another even more aggressive round of tickling. Happy tears in his boyfriend’s eyes, Steve inspects his work. Never in a million years could he have seen this in his future, a future he selfishly wants to say was worth waiting for. A future he wants to make worth the price Bucky’s had to pay.

“Sure you’re not just using this as an opportunity to test the durability of the world’s most patriotic tie, bald-eagles and all?” Bucky chokes out between the bouts of laughter.

Steve leans down, stopping his attack on Bucky’s ribs to ruffle his hair, his face easy, eyes bright. “Maybe.”

“Sneaky bastard.”

Steve smiles, and takes a breath, waiting for a reason or sign that this isn’t okay, and when he sees none, he closes the distance between them and kisses, painstakingly slow.

And Steve wants Bucky to allow the feeling of love bubble in his chest, every inch of him tingling with the knowledge that Steve treasures him, the proof right in front of him. But that’s before Bucky seems to settle on the idea he should bite into Steve’s collarbone with a vengeance.


End file.
